Point of View
by Crimson Lie
Summary: A short, cute story without much plot. I enjoyed writing this mainly because of the challenge of keeping both characters nameless. I think its rather obvious who the two are anyway, but it was fun writing it nevertheless.


Part of the fun of writing this, for me at least, was the challenge of not including names. I feel it is still blatantly obvious whom this story is about, but I think it is more interesting this way. Please do review, I would really appreciate it. I'd love to thank Briar, she's been great so far. I hope she keeps it up! Anyone else willing to help out – great! I could use the beta-reading.  
  
Black on silver, Silver and green. The dark amber tans of honey compared to the palest white of the snow in winter. Adolescent clumsiness opposed to a catlike grace. Pure, brilliant light aside the long shadows at dusk that flitted with the night, but could never truly become it. They say opposites attract and that's what we were.  
  
I think, at first, it both attracted and repelled me. He was everything I could never be, and I hated him for it. He never much liked me, either.  
  
It first happened one day after a particularly bad Quidditch match. We were alone, both of us, alone with the enemy. It had started with the traditional trading of insults. Fur began to fly and we became more passionate, the both of us. But this time, something changed – the fight became physical.  
  
Usually, we would throw a punch or two, but only with extreme provocation – I would have to insult his family or he my beliefs. This time, however, it didn't take that much egging before he snapped. Before I knew what had happened, he had me up against the wall. He was staring up at me, gazing right into my eyes, and I felt sure he could see past my prickly exterior and straight into my soul.  
  
I shivered, as my mind raced over countless possibilities. What would he do, alone in here with me? I was completely and utterly at his mercy, and what scared me was that a part of me, a dark and twisted part of me, liked that idea. He could do anything to me and I didn't totally mind. He leaned closed, and I felt my eyes flutter shut, just waiting for him to kiss me. Hard and rough, soft and gentle... I didn't mind how, but I could sense it coming.  
  
Instead, he growled something in my ear. I couldn't tell what he said, but I felt sure it was some kind of warning. His deep, low growl sent shivers up my spine, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from moaning. Luckily for me, he was done. He let go of me with a start, then stared at me with surprise warring with disgust on his fact – then he left. I groaned, as I stood up from where I had fallen to the floor. My ankle had taken most of my weight, and couldn't hold up to the pressure. It wasn't broken; I surmised, just rolled or sprained.  
  
I limped back to the dorms, wondering why I felt so loath to go to the hospital wing. I finally concluded that I didn't want to explain where I had gotten the injury, though deep down I knew the true reason. It was a battle scar, and a reminder of what had conspired between us two. I wasn't sure how I felt, precisely, but I did know one thing – it wasn't over yet. Oh no, things had just begun.  
  
The next incident occurred right before class, after lunch. I encountered him as he was just leaving the classroom from a discussion with Professor Flitwick. I was leisurely walking, for lunch had finished and we still had a bit of time before class began. I saw him as he looked up to turn a corner. He stopped, dead, staring into my eyes as I stared back at me, a smile at the corner of my mouth. He finally shivered and looked away, hurrying past to avoid anything else. I smirked, because I knew I had won round two.  
  
Things stewed beneath the surface, with glares and the occasional prank, but nothing really drastic happened until the Christmas holidays, where things came to a boil. I had been forced to stay at the blasted castle for the first time in years, at Father's insistence, despite my mother's pleading. I'd had to stay because Father couldn't have me there, and chance the risk of my meddling in his "delicate plans."  
  
He'd stared at me, all throughout the Christmas feast, undoubtedly trying to figure it out. He kept sending suspicious glances my way, and I was glad all his friends were at home, for fear of Voldemort's attack coming during the holidays. I thought I might go mad if he began plotting with his friends.  
  
He came to me after the feast, and asked me suspiciously what I was up to. I shrugged, not in the mood for a fight at the time, and tried to leave. He blocked my way, trapping me against the wall with both arms. I stared at him defiantly, but felt myself soften as he looked down at me. He was so naive, so beautiful, so angelic, and so far away from me. I reached out to touch his face, to see if he was really there, but pulled back. No, I couldn't, I wouldn't. It was like playing with fire, and expecting not to get burned. I ducked under his arms, and escaped down the hallway, not once looking back.  
  
I had been hiding in the library all day, somewhat smug that he hadn't found me as I presumed he'd be looking for me. I'd begun brooding about when my feelings for him had begun to change. I was deep in thought, trying to convince myself that I hadn't really felt that, and that I'd confused myself. Perhaps I'd had a stomachache, I'd told myself.  
  
Mid-afternoon, however, to my disgust, he discovered me. I feared his confrontation about my strange behavior, a warning, perhaps, to stay away from him. I was still rather confused about the hazy lust-hate feelings I had toward him, and it was much easier to push them aside and pretend they weren't there than to deal with them. Inwardly, I berated myself for allowing him to find me.  
  
He just stared at me for a while, which was a relief considering how much of his incessant babbling I suspected I'd soon deal with. Finally he spoke, starting the conversation rather innocently about the weather and which Quidditch team I favored for the World Cup. I actually managed to enjoy myself a little – not surprisingly, I found he did have some knowledge of Quidditch, though he had no idea of what team was decent, and he held his own, for the most part. Soon the conversation shifted to talk about school and then families. I lay on the sofa, rather lethargically for the most part, not up to much of anything, including arguing.  
  
He was sprawled on an armchair nearby, his eyes half-shut. I smiled slightly, and he threw me a glare. "What?" He asked irritably. I chuckled. "You and me," I replied to his query, "Who would've thought we'd be enjoying an intelligent conversation together?" He smiled slightly back at me, and nodded in understanding. He glanced at the time, stopped, then did a double take. I smirked, asking "What, surprised that you're enjoying yourself with me for a long period of time?" I asked arrogantly. I'd known I could make him enjoy himself with me. He laughed, then we both left together, he to go do some homework and me to go sit on my bed for a while, deep in thought. Finally I had what I'd strode for so long ago on that train – Potter's friendship, or if not friendship, than certainly grudging acceptance.  
  
Over time we grew closer, forced to work together by Dumbledore and Severus, in both their continually hopes that everyone was saved and that everyone would do their best when faced with the final day of War. We didn't become friends, per se, but we were enemies no longer. I ceased to antagonize him, and he in turn tried to bury old grudges, of himself and his friends, against me. Though they hardly believed him when he protested, "But people can change!" I had to give him credit for trying. It was a valiant effort.  
  
Over the summer we kept in contact through letters. I found that I got to know him better from his writing than by talking to him. It was hard, at times, with both of our fragile family situations, and we both knew hell would break loose if either family found out about our writing to the other. Still, we did stay in contact, and I began to feel a sort of fellowship with him.  
  
We met to shop for school supplies in Diagon Alley once summer vacation neared to a close. After my parents left, I met them outside Gringotts. His friends gave me some odd looks, but I chose to ignore them and they warmed up to me somewhat. He was pleased that I'd come, anyway, and that was all that mattered.  
  
I still hadn't come to terms with my feelings for him, I just realized that they had intensified without him there. Seeing him again just made my heart race. I still wasn't sure, however, what had changed between the two of us, or how he felt about me.  
  
The two of us had toned down our friendship, as the year began, but still met for tea and chats occasionally. Without the usual animosity between the two of us, the year's start was rather pleasant. I'm sure, though, that the other students were fairly puzzled at the lack of the customary feuding between the two of us. Still, Dumbledore looked pleased, and his eyes twinkled like there would be no tomorrow.  
  
After losing our first Quidditch match of the year, and I had retreated to the locker room. He came in, seeming to know instinctively where I was, and joined me in the shower after stripping down to his pants. I stiffened, when he came in, and scrubbed at my face, not wanting him to see me like this. "It's all right, you know." He said quietly, then stood with me for a moment without saying anything. Finally, he continued, "I know you try hard, but I can't just let you win... it's not in my nature." I sighed, and finally turned to him. "I know, but... year after year to have you beat me. It's hard, you know, to not win at everything."  
  
He hugged me, and patted my back. "I understand." He said softly, then gazed off over my shoulder, not speaking, for what seemed like ages. I could have died, then, and died happy, safe in his embrace, his warm body close to mine. However, he let go and smiled at me. "Come on, when you're done you can come have tea with me, and I'll let you beat me at Exploding Snap." He said, then left the showers. I turned off the water, dried off, and followed him.  
  
I don't know when I realized I loved him. I suppose I knew it all along, but couldn't fully understand the concept in my brain until now. He completed me, and he was like my other half. I really couldn't remember what it was like before he came into my life. He added color and clarity to my life.  
  
I was sitting out upon the Astronomy Tower pondering this, when I came to a drastic realization – he didn't, couldn't love me. He'd shown no signs of it, either for me or for anyone else, and only showed friendship toward me. I sighed, and wiped at the tears of depression and grief that had run down my cheeks as I thought.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, from behind me. I hadn't heard him approach, either I was too absorbed in my grief or else he'd just been sneaky. I quickly wiped at my face, hoping to hide what I believed to be a shameful show of emotion. Finally, I turned to him. "Oh – It's nothing." I quickly lied, hoping he'd believe me.  
  
He frowned at me. "C'mon. You've been weird ever since that last Quidditch match. What's going on?" I sighed. I knew better than to fib – he'd be able to tell. However, I didn't want to tell him outright, and lose his friendship. What little I had, I would fight to keep. "C'mon, spit it out!" He encouraged.  
  
"All right, it's like this." I said quietly, then went on. "There's this guy I'm in love with..." He raised his eyebrows, and I forced myself to sit and stay; I forced myself to actually have this conversation. "A guy?" He asked, a trace of emotion flickering in his green eyes. I looked down, unable to hold that gaze. "Yes, well... I was a bit surprised at first, but... I'm sure. I realized, about 4th or 5th year that I like both boys and girls. But this guy... he's the one.... He's just so..." I sighed, and rubbed the back of my neck, feeling his gaze on me. Irritated, I looked back up at him snapping a retort at his questioning gaze; snarling an answer to his unasked question.  
  
"Of course I know I'm in love with him! But at any rate, he doesn't love me back. I mean, he's dating girls, and he just...." I sighed, and plopped my hands down on my knees, frustrated, as I searched for the right words. "I'm not his type." I finished lamely.  
  
I stared out into the darkening sky, avoiding his gaze. "Oh." He said quietly. Then, "I'm sorry. I didn't... I mean...." He finally settled his arms around me and hugged me. I could hardly stand it, and I bet he could hear my heart break at that very moment. I was enclosed in the arms of the man I loved, and yet I was denied his love, given only friendship instead. A solitary tear slid down my cheek but I hastily rubbed it away. I wouldn't show him any more weakness.  
  
Finally he released me, and we stood there awkwardly. Finally, he patted my shoulder comfortingly, and tilted my chin up with his other hand. "Come on down to bed, hmm?" he asked me, seeing my tear-stained face, and hearing my continued sniffles. I was too drained, emotionally, to argue, so I complacently let him lead me to my dorm.  
  
The common room was mostly empty, but those students remaining in it gave me a startled glance when I led him through to my room. Luckily, I was the house Prefect, and they wouldn't argue with me on this, at least not right then. He tucked me into bed, and I was reminded oddly of my mother. He smiled, and smoothed my hair down, sitting next to me on the bed and gazing down at me. He kissed me on the forehead, then touched me on the cheek, and I slowly closed my eyes. My last sight was of him gazing down at me, quietly singing a lullaby.  
  
He came to me on the next day, which was luckily a Saturday. I was sitting outside, gazing across the lake and pondering what to do next, when he came to me. I'd skipped lunch, so it was deserted outside, and the silence was soothing compared to the inner turmoil I felt. I heard a quiet voice, however, and my heart leapt as I heard his voice, calling my name, despite my attempts to act normal.  
  
He came up to me, and sat down besides me, for a long time saying nothing else. Finally, he took both my hands in his, and gazed into my eyes, as if looking for something. "Am- Am I the one you love?" He asked, a slight stutter in his voice. I closed my eyes. I couldn't tell him no, he'd know a lie from me. There was a bond between us, a bond of friendship and of something more, and though sometimes I did enjoy it there, now was not the best time for it. In addition, I had found I couldn't lie to him, it was just so hard to do and he could call my bluff every time. So I sighed, and said nothing. "Please." He said, voice breaking, and my heart went out to him. "Please tell me..." he said, eyes begging me.  
  
"I...." I began, then looked down at the ground. "I do." I said finally, in as quiet a voice I could manage. "I'm sorry, but I do." I said, shutting my eyes and turning away. However, instead of his disgust or surprise, I felt a sort of happiness emanating from him, and before I could react he had me in his arms. I inhaled his scent, burying my face in his neck, and he smoothed my hair down. "I love you too, you know." He said quietly, in my ear. "I just didn't think you felt the same way. I had to know..." He trailed off, and I sighed into his neck. "Love you." I said softly, my heart nearly bursting in joy at his reply, "I love you too." 


End file.
